


Say Stay

by Sanemsie



Category: Erkenci Kuş (TV)
Genre: Character Study, F/M, Fix-It, Hurt/Comfort, One Shot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-05
Updated: 2018-11-06
Packaged: 2019-08-19 07:07:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16529783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sanemsie/pseuds/Sanemsie
Summary: Canem OneshotsCH4: AU where Can meets Sanem on a quest for rice





	1. I have hopes

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote a bunch of one shots for fun and I thought I would post them in case anyone was interested in reading them :)

I. My take on an apology scene 

* * *

 

The sun rises over the edge of the treetops, staining the sky in oranges and pinks. Sanem rests her chin on the tip of her folded knees, hands cradling a glass of chai between her palms. Her eyes still feel too big for her face, swollen and tired from weeks of bleakness and her heart still aches a little from its spot nestled in the middle of her chest, but it's nothing she can’t set aside for a couple minutes to watch the light splatter over the horizon.

 

She's always been naive, she knows that now. Fixated on fairy tales and pretty words, blind to the ugly things that lurked around her. When she sits and thinks, something feels gone from inside her, chipped away by some kind of realization--- _ the world will swallow you whole if you let it _

 

Sanem takes a sip of her chai and lets the thought make a nest inside her.

 

She doesn’t need to see him to know that he’s there. There's a moment of nothingness in the air before the ripples of his presence almost manage to topple her over. She doesn’t turn, doesn’t stand to meet him halfway, only closes her eyes and lets whatever current he carries along with him make its way down her limbs, all the way to the tips of her toes. 

 

Can’s shirt is loose, haphazardly thrown on for the sake of modesty. The scoop of it falls just under his clavicle, low enough that the albatross he carries on his chest winks at her with every ripple of his chest.

 

The beard on his face looks a little thicker than he usually lets it get, his bun is messy, wayward pieces sticking out in every direction, and his eyes are bloodshot enough for her to think that maybe he couldn’t sleep so well either. He’s beautiful like this, even as he yawns so wide that she fears his jaw will lock. 

 

He settles himself next to her, his bare feet nestling themselves in the tall grass of his backyard. He keeps his body angled towards her and he watches her face even as the light continues to cascade now in that color reserved for only that moment just before the day breaks. 

 

She lifts up the chai in her hands in silent offer. 

 

“It's the only thing I won’t burn” she says, brows raised a little with amusement

 

He takes it from her without a word, fingers threading over hers, sliding down the curve of the small cup before withdrawing it.

 

“I hated myself too” she confesses at the skyline after a few minutes of shared silence “When I found out what I did to you”

 

She slumps forward, as if the words had had a physical weight, and brings her forehead to her forearms. She draws a breath from where her head rests on her knees and tilts her head to the side. Can’s face is entirely neutral as he sits now fixated on the clear glass of the empty tea cup

 

Sanem links her own fingers together, pulling at them a little just to make sure she won't crumble

 

“When you touched me...looked at me...when you told me you loved me...it all felt wrong somehow”

 

He doesn’t reach for her. Instead he rests his elbows on his knees, now finally watching the sky, just in time to catch it  turning its darkest shade of orange. Can is stone-faced though from where she sits she can’t tell if its because he’s upset or taken off guard or if its the result of something else entirely.

 

“Tell me about it” he says finally, though it seems like the words are hard to entirely say

 

She bites the inside of her lip.  _ Maybe later _ is on the verge of her thoughts but she’s promised herself to be brave, at least when it comes to him

 

“I knew you wouldn’t want me after it all”

 

He bristles a little at her words, jaw ticking, the feeling of being backed in a corner settling in the fine lines of his expression.

 

“It was selfish, I guess, to take what I could get from you--a touch, a sweet word from your lips--knowing you wouldn’t want anything in return if you knew what I’d done”

 

She watches him straight on now, her gaze falling squarely on the profile of his face

 

“It was naive to think I could fix it, that I could have a piece without it all falling apart-- the sting from your cruelty taught me that” 

 

Once again she sees him retreat behind something. His expression is gone,  _ you’re not Sanem to me anymore _ , it looks eerily familiar. His fingers flex just barely over the sides of the cup still in his hand and his breathing is the only thing that gives him away

 

“You poke my wound, Sanem”

 

“And you ripped mine open every time you refused to even look at me”

 

Sanem’s shoulders sag, the weight of finally saying something melting off her shoulders

 

It's quiet for a moment and neither of them can look away from each other, even as the sun is done rising and the light welcomes them to a new day

 

“I’ve never had any plans” he tells her after a couple more moments “not really, anyways” 

 

He reaches out, finally, to touch, to flutter the tips of his fingers so delicately on the length of her jawline

 

“But I do have hopes now” he continues, fingers now tracing the curve of her bottom lip

 

“I have hopes that you’ll forgive me one day” he says, fingers moving to follow a path down her nose “that I’ll be strong enough to let you in, that your eyes will someday regain that innocence that you lost because of me”

 

Its seems like he could continue, but he doesn't. His hand has made it to the side of her face where it cradles her jaw like a precious thing that could shatter at a false move. Something about what exists between them is fragile, she knows, there's hurt and mistrust, too many tears and harsh words but still she doesn’t move away even as he leans in closer.

 

His hand is warm and rough as it slides instead to the side of her neck, pulling her entirely into his orbit. Their legs are awkwardly bent but it's worth the slight discomfort to get closer, never close enough, pressed up against him enough that she hopes something of herself will weld itself to him. Can’s mouth moves against her with gentle insistence, a slow pull that makes her feel like maybe she will stay with this man until the day she dies  

 

They break apart finally, for air and for the sake of decency but his forehead stays close, pressed almost tiredly on the side of her neck

 

“I love you, Sanem”

 

And at last she lets herself believe it


	2. Just like that

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let him be an Albatross, she thinks lightly, with a little bit of finality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A version of Sanem's thoughts and resignation




Sanem is really only a child when she gets banned from the boutique down the street for trying to steal a purple striped blouse. 

 

Well, technically she doesn’t explicitly get banned, she’s just never dumb enough to go back there. Plus, the commissioner is very clear when he tells her that he never wants to lay eyes on her again, so she decides that it’s definitely better to stay clear of expensive clothing that she’s never going to be able to afford. Just to be sure.

 

Her mom is fed up with her. It’s not the stealing thing exactly, or the getting escorted home by the police thing, or even the fact that she snuck out her window with a makeshift rope made from her bedsheets. She’s sick of her daydreaming, she says. She needs to focus on something--on school, like Leyla, on sports, like Osman, or on the family business, like all the other nice boys and girls that help their parents out in the evenings. She needs to find a job when she’s older, or a nice husband, something for herself--what will she do when her and Nihat are no longer around? How will she fend for herself?

 

It’s a long and arduous conversation and it doesn’t end on a high note. Actually, it ends on a low note, a really  _ really _ low note.

 

Still, Sanem never tells anyone that it wasn’t actually her doing the stealing, per se. 

 

Nazil, a girl from her class had taken the shirt from the rack when they were leaving without her noticing. Regardless, it was Sanem who was caught with the shirt in hand when the police arrived. She knew Nazil’s dad wasn’t really well known for his good humor so she figured there was no point in them both getting in trouble, so she takes the blame.

_ There's so many in there, I didn’t think they would miss just one _

 

she’s shooting for funny but no one else seems to laugh. 

 

The commissioner just eyes them both for a long moment before sending Nazil home and escorting Sanem to her door with a stern warning. 

 

She gets grounded of course. It kind of sucks, especially since Ayhan isn’t even allowed to come over and she doesn’t get to watch any of her favorite shows.   

 

Zebercet finds out somehow and then the entire class calls her sticky fingers for months.  She gets into a couple fights over it, Leyla and Ayhan too, but people eventually forget, move on to the next piece of gossip, and she’s free from the name, _ just like that _ . 

 

She thinks about that night on the drive back from the amusement park and when she’s in her room, eyes closed but not yet asleep, and the next morning, when she goes down to Deren’s office to put in her resignation--

 

_ Just like that  _

 

She wonders if she’ll ever be free of  _ this _ .

 

Except this time, the idea of being forgotten doesn’t sit so well in the pit of her stomach.

 

_ It was always going to end like this. You lied. To a man that hates lies. What did you expect? _

 

Her inner self hasn’t been very kind to her lately. 

 

Deren accepts her resignation with little fuss and if there's any attempt at prying the reason for her departure out of her, it’s superficial at best. She’s almost thankful for it, for the mild apathy in the other woman’s eyes.

 

Sanem wants to cry sitting in the neatly organized office. She stops herself, because she’s made a resolution not to cry, no matter how much her eyes are stinging. 

 

“I don’t have to tell you that all your ideas for the current campaign will be transferred legally to us” she adds, once Sanem has signed all the required paperwork for HR. 

 

Sanem nods, smoothing out the wrinkles in her skirt with a shaky hand. 

 

“You’ll have to talk to Can at some point to work out the details to finish the campaign at least-”

 

“I’ll write him an email” she says quickly, blinking extra hard to keep tears at bay, and coughing to keep her voice from breaking. 

 

Daren gives her a look but doesn’t push the subject any further.

 

She smiles at the crowd that forms as she’s leaving. She’s going to miss them. That part’s true. Every other part is stretching the truth. 

 

_ Lying _ , her inner self reminds her,  _ again _

 

But Sanem has become a little to used to the faint ringing of guilt that echos in her ears as she fabricates her story. 

 

_ She has to take over the store. Her father has fallen ill. She’d never ask Leyla to leave her position _ .

 

She accepts everyone’s well wishes with a half hearted smile and a tiny wave goodbye.

 

Deren lets her keep the laptop. It’s sweet. Unexpectedly so.

 

Sanem clears her throat and manages a ‘thank you’

 

The walk seems endless as she makes her way out and she tries not to look into his office as she passes by, she really does, knows she’ll wilt at the sight--but the glass walls call her by name and she’s never been strong enough when it comes to him, so she sneaks a glance, casually, under the pretense of pushing hair from her face.

 

It’s empty. 

 

She doesn’t ask why. 

 

Pretends she’d been strong enough not to look. 

 

Tries to convince herself he’s not real, just another fantasy she’s managed to convolute with reality.

 

_ Even you can’t come up with such a thing. Of course he’s real. He just doesn’t want you anymore. _

 

For once her inner self has a point, not even the best of novels could come close to him.

 

He could be halfway to Africa for all she knew. There’s nothing holding him here, he’d said that once, and perhaps it was more true now than it had ever been.

 

She chews the thought around in her head, just because it hurts, just because it makes her pain feel real.

 

Let him be an Albatross, she thinks lightly, with a little bit of finality.  

 

let him fly along the ocean, a beautiful bird, so unforgivingly lonely.

 

Perhaps she’ll spend her life watching after his flight, memories made with him stored carefully under lock and key in her heart.

 

Perhaps it’ll all blur into a lovely story she’ll write with ink

 

_ Just like that _

 

What will she write?

 

She’ll write that amidst the darkness of a party, he confused her for someone else. That he never stopped confusing her, even when he loved her. 

 

Maybe one day she’ll write about the past, but today, as she walks back into the light breeze of the early morning air, she can only taste a breath of a new beginning.


	3. Corner Store (I)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What's your name?”
> 
>  
> 
> “Sanem” she answers almost too quickly
> 
>  
> 
> “Sanem” he repeats
> 
>  
> 
> “My name is Sanem”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably my favorite piece I've written for Canem, I really am a sucker for AU's 
> 
> entirely based on the scene from ep 18 where Can helps Sanem at the store

_ Rice _

 

Pollen needs rice.

 

She’s making some kind of welcome home dish and apparently, according to her inventory, Emre has been living off takeout and the occasional bowl of homemade oatmeal. She calls him in a bit of a panic as he's wrapping up his orientation session with Deren and it sounds too much like Emre for him to argue--he really has no idea how his brother manages to keep himself slim

 

and so, a couple hours later, once he’s read his fill of old campaign files, the quest for rice sees him turning onto a dark and narrow street on his way back from the office.

 

_ There’s bound to be a store around here somewhere _ , he thinks, eyes scanning the similar looking buildings for a sign that might indicate a grocery shop. He knows he could have probably gone to a supermarket-- but the night is quiet, his nerves are at about the maximum he can take,  and he really doesn’t think he can stomach the droning of a crowd.

 

It doesn’t take him long to find the small shopping center for the neighborhood he’d turned into. He sees a beauty salon, a couple ladys finishing up their appointments, chatting and laughing with the stylist. A butcher shop, two or three patrons still lined up, waiting for a cut of meat, and in the corner,  _ aha _ , Leyla Bakkal.

 

The store is small, but even from his spot on the outside it looks clean and well kept. He sees the grocer, a young lady, perched on a two step stool restocking something that looks like packets of sweets. She drops a handful of them all the sudden, as he’s patting his jacket for his wallet, bends out of sight to pick them up and then she's ripping one open, eating it with a vigor that he can’t help but find amusing. 

 

He enters the storefront with his wallet open, already looking for a bill, shuffling past his license, the parking voucher from this morning…

 

He’s not entirely  aware that he’s waiting for a greeting until it doesn’t come. 

 

He looks up from his task to see that the woman still has his back to him, obviously enjoying whatever chocolate it is she’s eating. 

 

He coughs a little, to make his presence known and the woman stills, mid bite, turning slowly to look at him from over her shoulder. She sees him standing there and quickly averts her eyes, drops the wrapper, and pulls a napkin from nearby to wipe her mouth. 

 

It all happens in a blink and then she's turning, smoothing out the sides of her straight hair and the crumbs from the top of her black turtleneck. Her pink tongue shoots out to scoop whatever might be left on her face before she's entirely ready to address him.  

 

“We’re closed, sorry” she says, muffled still by the last bite of chocolate.

 

“The door was open” he tells her, motioning behind him 

 

She tilts her head a little, shiny hair falling over her shoulder like a curtain

 

“Okay” she drawls the word out long enough to stuff the wrapper out of sight “but its past eight and I have to close the store-”

 

“The sign says open” he interrupts again, this time adding “and I need rice” 

 

Her eyebrow turns up a little, perhaps at his insistence and he’s inclined to include  “ _ -Please” _

 

She looks at him for a moment, openly for a couple blinks and then perhaps a bit shyly. 

 

“Okay” she says again, moving out from behind the counter, deep purple pants on full display as she goes. He watches her move across the store in a couple skips, sneakers taking her there quietly. Her eyes are dark, wide, and expressive as they look around for her materials, a plastic bag, a scooper--her nails are a pale shade of pink and she wears a simple bracelet around her wrist, the tiny beads catching the light as her hands move quickly, probably in a rush to get home

 

“Sir?”

 

Can looks up quickly from where her hands had been ready to scoop rice from the open barrels 

 

“Hm?” 

 

“I was asking what type of rice you wanted?” 

 

What type? 

 

“There's more than one kind?” he asks, almost accidentally and he knows it's not a common question around here when she snorts out a couple of good natured giggles

 

“Oh you’re serious” she says when he doesn’t join in on the joke, only laughing at him a little now 

 

“Wow” her smile takes up her whole face as she laughs with her eyes “Even  _ I  _ know that and I have never been accused of knowing how to cook” she tells him, turning back to the rice and then back at him “and I mean,  _ never _ \--one time I tried to make my dad breakfast for his birthday and I almost burned the house down” she flails a little and then amends the statement “actually I almost burned the  _ whole block _ down”  she smiles a little to herself and then gets back to the matter at hand 

 

“So I guess it depends what you’re making” 

 

He can tell its a question by how she looks up to wait for an answer

 

“You don’t know that either” she surmises, probably from the blank look on his face

 

“I’ll take some of each” 

 

“Okay” she shrugs

 

“Sorry for laughing” she says, perhaps only to fill the silence “It’s just that we don’t usually get people like you around here” and the horror that splatters across her face as the words leave her lips is nothing short of comical 

 

“People that  _ look _ like you, I mean” but that's not any better and then she's blushing and gaping, bags of rice all but forgotten

 

“That's not-”  she starts, rocking back and forth on her heels, eyes squinted in embarrassment “- _ what I meant to say _ ”

 

Can’s eyes go soft, mostly on their own accord, watching her stumble over her own words, blushing a pretty shade of red. He looks at her like maybe he’s encountered a maniac on his search for rice and he’s inclined to know something about her, something that she’s never told anyone before, or something simple, perhaps

 

“What's your name?”

 

“Sanem” she answers almost too quickly 

 

“Sanem” he repeats 

 

“My name is Sanem” 

 

She's beautiful. 

That much he can admit to himself at least, dark hair and even darker eyes, something about them clean, pure. He lets himself look into them until the moment becomes a bit charged. She blinks back, trapped perhaps by the weight of his stare, by the intrusiveness of it

 

A knock comes to the window then, breaking the spell as they both turn to look

 

A young man with curly hair stands on the other side, bright blue eyes asking her something across the glass, perhaps if she’s alright. He seems to find the answer he’s looking for because then he waves a little and makes his way down the curb.

 

Sanem goes back to filling his bag in silence and this time it's him who's inclined to break the quiet

 

“Do you make it a habit to eat the merchandise” he asks, pointing towards the display she’d been setting with his index and pinky finger

 

She looks up a little startled at the accusation and follows where his finger are pointing. She laughs again then and shakes her head 

 

“No, only if its chocolate” she's twisting the last bag now “its my favorite” 

 

He nods at the little bit of information

 

He watches her closely as she rings him up for the food. There's a scar on her left cheek and she has a dimple that peeks out when she's talking--he's not quite sure what he means to do with that knowledge but he stores it away in his thoughts for safekeeping

 

She hands over his change, taking her time to count it out so he can hear, only messing up once and having to restart

 

“Alright” she tells him, lips curved in a barely-there smile 

 

“Alright--thank you for the-" he says, pointing at the rice 

 

She nods “Goodnight” 

 

“Goodnight” 

 

He stays for a second longer, too long maybe for it to be casual, before finally making his way back out onto the dark street

 

When he looks back one last time she's saying something to herself, palm pushed up against her forehead 

 

_ Sanem _

 

and It's only as he's driving off that he sees a purple-ish chocolate wrapper peeking out of his grocery bag. 


End file.
